


Operation Candy Cane

by ProtoChan



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Captain Swan Secret Santa, Captain Swan Secret Santa 2017, Christmas, Christmas Fluff, F/M, Family, Family Feels, Family Fluff, Holiday Fic Exchange, Holidays, Married Couple, Married Life, Mystery, Romance, Secret Santa
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-25
Updated: 2017-12-25
Packaged: 2019-02-20 11:45:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,026
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13146018
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ProtoChan/pseuds/ProtoChan
Summary: Storybrooke hosts all manner of fairy tale creatures, from those of the most reknown to those as obscure as obscure could be. That’s no secret. What is a secret, however, was the state of existence for one of the greatest characters of all time. This year, the Swan-Jones-Mills family seeks to bring this mystery to an end.





	Operation Candy Cane

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: This is my CSSS gift for @swan-road! Emily, it’s been so much fun talking with you this month, and I hope that what I’ve put together lives up to what you’ve hope for!

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Christmas is overwhelming.

 

Of course, everything is overwhelming here in Storybrooke, especially for Killian. 

 

There’s marriage and technology and bills - things Killian has never known before.

 

However, more than anything else, he considers the two hardest parts of this world to be family and traditions, and both of which are more prevalent than ever around Christmas, if what he’s heard through the words of others is correct.

 

Killian’s part of a family now, for the first time in what feels like an eternity. He, Emma, and Henry have truly settled into their home, and they’ve settled into each other. But now, Killian wants to take the next step. To sit on the sideline and observe and learn isn’t enough anymore. He wants to be involved in the family. He wants to take a larger role in it. 

 

The holidays seem like the perfect time to do this, but as he and everyone prepare for the holidays, Killian realizes that his lack of knowledge of any of it make him the odd one out. It’s not that he doesn’t want to know more of this realm or that he expects that he wouldn’t have to - quite the contrary. That means though that he’s left asking questions and not playing a part in doing the traditions themselves as they’re happening, or at least not nearly as much as he could be if he did know them. By the time it’s been explained to him why a star topped their tree, it’s already placed on there by Henry’s hands, and another tradition is missed.

 

Henry.

 

This is Killian’s first Christmas as part of not just Emma, but Henry’s family too, and as a stepfather, no less. He wants it to be special. He wants to go into it with their best feet forward. But that’s tough when he’s already starting late, both in terms of relations and now information about all that one does on Christmas. 

 

Still, true to the stubbornness that birthed over a century spent in Neverland, Killian refuses to give up hope that he and his stepson will make a few memories that will amount to more than just his education of the holiday.

 

Now all he needed was a proper opening.

 

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“Hey Hook. Have you ever heard of Santa Claus?” 

 

Killian looks up from his plate. This dinner with he, Emma, and Henry has so far been accompanied by talk of further decorating the house for Christmas, and much of that conversation had involved explaining to Killian everything about the holiday that they failed to mention before, and that still turns out to be a lot. Henry has asked Killian if he had heard of many things for the sake of brevity, but this is the first time that he has asked about a person.

 

Santa Claus - the name doesn’t ring any bells. Neither has anything else, so Killian’s not too surprised with himself. He imagines he’ll get the expected response and the motions of Henry and Emma explaining the tradition as well as answering any other questions Killian may have afterwards. 

 

“I can’t say that I do.” 

 

“Oh.” Henry frowns as he turns back to his food. There’s no accompanying explanation this time, and the resulting silence builds up a mountain of guilt within him in a few seconds. He doesn’t understand why this instance is so upsetting when he’s been foreign to traditions all day now.

 

Not to mention, it hurts Killian to see him so glum. “Is something the matter, Henry?”

 

Henry sighs and looks back up at him. “It’s just...We live in Storybrooke. The Evil Queen is my mom, the Wicked Witch of the West is my aunt, and Captain Hook is my step dad. And people outside the book exist. Captain Nemo, Frankenstein -”

 

“And let me guess,” Emma interrupts. “You were hoping Santa might exist too?” 

 

Henry shrugs his response.

 

At this point, an entirely new conversation has started, one that started between Henry and he and Killian’s still at a loss for what is happening. The whole thing is rather frustrating, honestly.

 

“Now wait just a moment,” Killian says with an interruption of his own. “Who exactly  **is** this Santa Claus?” This time it’s Emma, not Henry who answers.

 

“He goes around to kid’s houses and brings them presents on Christmas,” Emma explains.

 

“Presents?”

 

“Yeah,” Emma confirms. 

 

Killian pauses. He feels his brow tighten above him. Why does that sound familiar?

 

“What is it?” Killian looks over at Henry, who stares at him expectantly.

 

“Something about Emma’s description rings a bell. It’s vague, but it reminds me of some tales I heard throughout my travels.”

 

His response leaves Henry looking downright flabbergasted. For a moment, he says nothing and Killian’s left concerned, but once the moment passes, Henry brightens up like the Christmas tree they just finished decorating. “Oh My God!” he shouts. Henry then smiles and looks to Emma. “Mom! Santa might actually be real!” Killian glances at Emma. Her eyes are wide and her jaw slackened. 

 

“It’s possible,” Emma said, shrugging when she recovers. She then looks to Killian. “What do you think?”

 

Killian smirks. If he’s sure of anything in this world, it’s that once Henry has a suspicion about something, he won’t stop investigating until his itch for knowledge has been sufficiently scratched, and Henry’s reaction definitely shows that there’s something in this Santa Claus that warrants exploring. And if Killian himself could contribute to that, it’d be quite the change of pace from the rest of this holiday. He’d be on equal footing. Hell, if he remembered more, he could even lead the charge. Just thinking about Henry’s response to that fills Killian with all the determination in the world.

 

At last, it seems like he’s found his opening.

 

“I think it’s worth it to find out,” he replies. Henry’s grin, against all logic, grows wider.

 

“Then let’s find him! We can look tomorrow. Guys, if we can do this, it’d be right on time for Christmas!”

 

“I’m in,” Killian states, without a second’s hesitation.

 

“Me too,” Emma starts. Suddenly though, she presses her hand to her forehead. “Oh crap!”

 

“Everything alright, love?”

 

“No,” she morosely responds. “Shoot! I just remembered! I have work tomorrow!” Killian frowns again. Henry’s never asked him to go on a mission alone, apart from their adventures in Isaac’s book where allies were few and far between and time was of the essence and his real estate venture in Camelot which was Killian’s suggestion to begin with. It’s not that the two of them aren’t close, but it’s always one of his mothers at the forefront of his quests. Given his lack of information on the subject, he doubts Henry would be content with only him as company, not when he could just wait for Emma to be free.

 

So much for his opening. 

 

He looks to Henry, expecting to see a likewise expression of dismay, and there is one, but it only lasts for a second. He then looks to Killian.

 

“We could do it, just us.” 

 

Killian raises a brow. “You’d want to?” Has time truly brought them together so much that Henry feels that the two of them alone could headline a mission? 

 

Still, Henry doesn’t even appear to need to think it over.

 

“Yeah, let’s do it.”

 

He can still hardly believe it. Henry wants to not only do this, but do this with him. 

 

Well, Killian decides that if they’re to do this, then they should do it right.

 

“Shall we make an operation out of it?” Killian suggests.

 

Henry pauses for a moment, thinking.

 

“How about Operation Candy Cane?”

 

Killian smiles at the name. He doesn’t understand what a candy cane is, nor its relevance to this new quest, but it’s their operation and that’s all that matters.

 

“It’s perfect.”

 

From there, Henry starts spiraling in the way only he can do. “Can you imagine what Christmas would be like with Santa around?” He ponders, his voice getting louder and louder by the second. 

 

“Easy now, kid,” Emma says. “You guys can search all you want tomorrow, but it’s getting late, and I seem to recall a certain someone promising to finish his homework before bed.”

 

Henry rolls his eyes and releases a sigh. “Fine.” He looks at Killian again and perks up. “Let’s start first thing tomorrow.” The joy on Henry’s face is spectacular.

 

“Aye-aye,” Killian confirms. “Operation Candy Cane is to begin at dawn.”

 

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“This Santa sounds like quite the man, Swan.” Emma and Killian are now laying in bed. Emma’s holding Killian’s hand. He loves the ways her thumb massages his palm.

 

“He is, and if it turns out he’s real, it’d really be something. We’d save a ton of money on gifts,” she teases. “And juvenile crime? Forget about it. We’d have to make work for ourselves at that point just to fill up the day.” Killian grins and shifts so that he’s looking directly at her.

 

“Tell me more about him,” he requests. “I want to be up to speed for Operation Candy Cane tomorrow.”

 

“Do you even know what a candy cane is?” Emma laughs. Such a sound is music to Killian’s ears. 

 

“A cane made of candy?” Killian ventures.

 

“Peppermint candy,” Emma points out. 

 

Killian scrunches his face. “Pepper-mint?” he attempts to clarify, separating the words as he attempts to break it down. “That sounds atrocious!”

 

“No it’s-it’s,” Emma stutters, trying to explain before giving up with a sigh. “Never mind. I’ll show you later. Anyway, Santa judges all the kids in the world on whether they’ve been good or bad and if they’re good, they get presents on Christmas.”

 

“How long does it take him to deliver these presents?”

 

“One night.” 

 

That doesn’t sound right. Of course, magic exists both in Storybrooke and the Enchanted Forest, but to visit every house in the world in one night is beyond what even a talanted teleporter could do, Killian wagers.

 

“One night? Surely you must jest!”

 

“Nope,” Emma disagrees. “He has a sleigh that eight magic reindeer fly around so he can hit every house in the world.”

 

Killian nods. Emma’s explanation makes about as much sense to him as a two headed gopher, but he decides not to question it. Instead, he explores another avenue.

 

“And he judges every child in the world?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“And everyone’s just okay with that?”

 

“Believe it or not, yeah. Santa’s a sign that things are fair. If you’re good, you’re rewarded. To a lot of kids, Santa is hope.” Killian is once again dumbfounded by this, but doesn’t push for more information about him specifically. The whole business with this Santa Claus is strange enough as is, and Killian internally prepares to find a rather eccentric man when they finally meet.

 

But there is something that he very much wants to press. Santa, in this land without magic, is a force for hope to all children, his Swan claims.

 

Well, Killian wonders, Emma herself was a child at some point, too.

 

What did he mean to her when childhood innocence hadn’t fully deprived her of belief?

 

“Was he your hope?”

 

Emma nods. “For a bit. I knew he wasn’t as powerful as some of the kids said he was. Otherwise, he would have gotten me adopted. Still, he could get me another few pairs of socks, and maybe even a toy or two.”

 

As soon as Emma says her piece, Killian finds that his mission suddenly gains another level of purpose.

 

It’s an appealing notion, being Emma’s hero. Santa, while not her younger self’s deepest wish was still a wish, and one perhaps Killian could hope to grant. Emma would certainly appreciate it. Santa, if found and willing, could be another do-gooder in a town that served as good’s strongest hold on this world.

 

“By the way, you okay? You seemed a little freaked out earlier?” 

 

At first, Killian is confused. Since he’s been recruited for Operation Candy Cane, he’s been nothing but excited, restless, but surely not distressed. 

 

Well...that and just the least bit panicked.

 

Killian tries to figure out how to best answer her question, but his wife’s impatience comes about with the strength of an ogre. “Come on, spill.”

 

“It’s Henry. This will be our first operation together, and I want to make sure I get this right.”

 

He can’t help it. As Henry’s pointed out before, their missions together haven’t been without their unpleasant moments. Their time on the Nautilus, while ending with the two closer than before, couldn’t have started out worse if he’d tried. Hell, Killian had even died in the midst of two of their actual missions!

 

Things are better now, and Killian knows that. There are no lies going in this time, but at the same time, there’s always threats of magic-based danger, and as this relates so closely to Henry’s childhood, this mission presents delicate territory.

 

“What about Operation Best Man?” Emma brings up.

 

“I mean like a real mission, with a mystery and research that’s all our own.” Emma shoots him a look. Bless her heart, he can still read it like an open book, and right now, it’s telling him that she can’t be fooled. “We’re family, and I want to be part of his life.”

 

“You are,” Emma argues passionately. “We have dinner together every night that he’s here and we hang out on weekends and we go to all of his school functions.” 

 

That sentiment, he realizes, for as true as it is, brings up the real heart of why his nerves plague him so much: When he and Henry are together, when things are good, Emma’s usually there too. 

 

How would things go without her? Fine, that’s what Killian keeps telling himself, but he’d only know for sure once it happened.

 

“You’re going to be fine,” Emma continues, as if able to read his every thought. Marriage will do that to some and for those as acclimated to each other already as Emma and Killian are, it only makes sense.

 

“I hope so, love.” The two of them lock eyes again. Emma’s stare doubles down Killian’s determination. 

 

Suddenly, she turns to the television on the other side of the room. 

 

“Look, so you don’t go running out of bed to do research before tomorrow, why don’t we watch a Christmas movie? I’m pretty sure  The Santa Clause is on Netflix?”

 

The poster and title of that movie as they show up on the television are probably the weirdest things Killian’s seen or heard all day, and that’s really saying something, but his wife’s generosity has him not caring about silly things like that at all. Pulling Emma closer to his side, he happily nods and presses a kiss to her cheek as Emma readies the remote for the movie.

 

While Killian has no idea what was to come tomorrow, he does know is that he’s fighting for the two greatest people he’s ever known, and that will hopefully be enough to keep him strong for whatever comes to pass the next day.

 

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Killian and Emma walk downstairs the next morning only to see Henry nose deep in a copy of “The Night Before Christmas.” Killian only knows what it is because Emma explains it during the movie the previous evening when there’s a reference made to it. Emma smirks just before approaching the table her son is working on and leaning on the wooden surface. 

 

“Now if only you could put as much effort into your math homework as your Operations,” she teases.

 

Henry shoots her a pointed look. “Can you seriously tell me with a straight face that doing algebra is half as cool as searching for Santa?” Emma chuckles to herself and ruffles Henry’s hair, much to his annoyance.

 

“So,” Killian says, “What have you got planned for our investigation?”

 

“I was thinking we could hit up grandpa’s shop. He knows more about the Enchanted Forest than anyone.”

 

Killian does his best to mask a grimace that reflexively comes to his face when Gold is mentioned. An ultimate peace among all in Storybrooke may have been struck with The Black Fairy’s defeat, but while many faces in this town have become friendly, some haven’t succumb to time as easily as others. Emma’s clearly not fooled, but the effort doesn’t go unappreciated. She takes his hand.

 

“Why don’t we get some breakfast at Granny’s first?” Emma suggests. “I’ve got a little bit of time before my shift starts and you two can spend some time figuring out what to ask.”

 

Henry brightens up at the suggestion. “Sounds good! Let me just go to the bathroom.” As soon as Henry is out of sight, Emma pulls at Killian’s hook. 

 

“Do you want me to talk to Henry?” she inquires. “Gold’s still a sore spot. He’ll understand.”

 

Killian shakes his head, but smiles gratefully. “Thank you for offering, Emma, but I assure you, it’s unnecessary. Gold and I can get along well enough, if only for Henry. Besides, he’s Henry grandfather, and a blood link to Neal. I’d be a fool and a monster to try to keep them apart.”

 

Emma smiles once and the way she stares at Killian makes him feel like he could fly straight into tomorrow. “You’re so good to him.”

 

“That’s all I want to be.”

 

“Just don’t get too in your head about today. Henry loves you. You know that.”

 

“I do,” Killian confirms. “I just want him to have the Christmas he deserves.”

 

In the distance, the two of them hear footsteps strumming in their direction. 

 

“All ready to go!” Henry calls out from the front door. Killian and Emma look at each other and exchange a quick chuckle between them before going off to join their boy.

 

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Granny’s is packed when the family arrives. They’re just barely able to get a booth. Usually, Granny herself waits on them, but because of how packed it is, one of the employees hired after Ruby left is charged with taking and completing their orders.

 

As their waitress leaves, Henry takes his copy of “The Night Before Christmas” out of his satchel and starts reading.

 

“Emma showed me a Christmas movie last night.”

 

“I heard in the hallway,” Henry says, looking up. “Did anything come back to you, about those tales you remembered?”

 

Killian shakes his head. He swore that he tried to focus on every detail he learned about Santa last night, from his big jelly belly to his use of elves for service, but nothing rung a bell.

 

Henry frowns, and Killian hates himself for making that happen. He replays the movie over and over again in his mind, but nothing brings out a memory. Emma puts her arm around him. 

 

“Something will stick,” she insists, optimistically. “No need to force it.” Killian nods, his hook looping around the small of her back. 

 

With that, Killian decides to continue focusing on what he can still learn, and “The Night Before Christmas” is as good of a place to start as any.

 

“New book for our adventure?” Killian asks, curious.

 

“Yeah,” Henry answers. “My book’s great, but it’s not going to help us since Santa’s not in it.”

 

Killian’s just about to ask him to read a passage or inform him of anything last night’s movie failed to mention, but before he can, someone, not at the table, speaks up, startling Emma, Henry, and especially Killian.

 

“Santa, huh?” The three of them turn to the booth behind theirs. There, August sits to the opposite of Archie and Marco. 

 

“August,” Henry says. In his eyes is pure admiration. “Why didn’t I think of you sooner? You know fairy tales like no one else. Maybe you can help us. Do you know if Santa exists?” August raises a brow and smirks.

 

“You believe in Santa?” he asks, condescendingly if not for the fact that those he knows are familiar with how he speaks.

 

“Well, it’s not like he’s sitting behind Pinocchio, Gepetto, and Jiminy Cricket or anything,” Emma retorts.

 

“Or dining with Captain Hook and the daughter of Snow White,” Killian adds in.

 

August nods, owning up to his loss of their verbal spar. “Fair enough. No, I’ve never heard about Santa outside of this world.”

 

Henry sighs in despair. Killian can see why. August, from what he’s learned in his time here, is not only a friend to Emma, but a mentor of sorts to Henry too. A lack of insight from such a source is hardly the note to start an adventure on. He wants to do something to help, but he questions what exactly he can do at all.

 

He thinks about August, and what he knows. Emma’s told him of their past. It’s always sounded to Killian like he’s a backwards sort of man. It’s not that there’s anything wrong with him, but his answers are never straightforward.

 

That gives Killian something to go off of. 

 

Maybe August’s insights needn’t be as black and white as one would expect.

 

“August,” Killian speaks up. “Henry and I seek to find this Santa Claus. Have you any wisdoms to impart on us for such a quest? Somewhere we should go, or simply something to keep in mind as we search?” August scratches his chin.

 

“Well, I know more than most about finding fairy tale characters in this world,” he states after a moment’s pause. “If that’s taught me anything, it’s that the answers to what’s become of them is never simple. I’m willing to bet that this isn’t going to be an exception. My advice is to keep your mind open, and knowing what I know, that shouldn’t be too hard for you two.”

 

Killian turns back to Henry. He nods, taking August’s words in. “Yeah,” he says. “We can. Thanks.” He then looks to Killian. “You think we’ve got this?”

 

“The fearsome Captain Hook and the Truest Believer? Not a challenge at all!” Killian brags. 

 

August, Gepetto, and Archie leave soon afterwards and the rest of breakfast is spent familiarizing Killian with “The Night Before Christmas” over plates of eggs and pancakes. Killian is still remiss to say that nothing he’s read, seen, or heard has bought back any memories. It’s almost like there’s some key to it, and once it’s exposed, however that may be, it’ll all come to the forefront.

 

Still, Killian takes pride in doing what he could here. Henry’s behavior is a living testament to how much August’s words, however few, has helped him along.

 

When breakfast is finally over, Emma reluctantly parts from Henry and Killian after dropping them off at Mr. Gold’s Pawn Shop, leaving behind only a kiss on KIllian’s lips and Henry’s forehead and a promise that she’ll meet up with them later when work permits.

 

Killian stares ahead. Now it’s just he, Henry, and Mr. Gold.

 

He silently prays to Zeus for strength.

 

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When Killian and Henry walk into the pawnshop, Gold’s whole body goes stiff. It makes sense, Killian reasons. After all, the last time they came to this shop, it was on less than pleasant business, back when the fate of the family they’re now both a part of hung in the balance. 

 

Thankfully, true to their agreement, peace reigns supreme between Killian and Gold. They acknowledge each other, and while their greeting can hardly be called friendly, it’s neutral, a simple nod accompanied by the stating of each other’s names, which is the best either of them could probably ever hope for given the circumstances.

 

Henry quickly explains the situation, and the tension Gold took on when they arrived fades away. 

 

“Didn’t think you still believed in Santa Claus,” Gold snarks, a snort of air speaking of his sense of humor escapes from his nostrils. “In any case, no. I’ve never heard Santa’s name mentioned back in The Enchanted Forest.” Henry’s mood falls from inquisitive to pessimistic. Killian bites his lip, guiltily. He knows there are other people for them to talk to, but if The Dark One can’t help them, it’s a true blowback to the hope they’ve built up thus far.

 

Suddenly, just before Killian’s about to suggest some other course of action, Gold releases a small hum. “That said, there used to be whispers on cold nights about a man. I never met him, but I remember hearing that he had magic. However, it was limited, very limited. He could only do good for others, but it had to be inconsequential goodness. The part that stuck out to me, though was that his magic was alleged to come without a price.”

 

“Magic without a price?” Henry wonders aloud. “Isn’t there supposed to be no such thing?”

 

“You would think, and you’d normally be right, but any whispers I heard insisted that his magic came without one.”

 

Killian mulls over Gold’s words. He’s right. Magic without a price shouldn’t exist, regardless of what it created.

 

That itself begged the question: What exactly did his magic create?

 

Perhaps understanding that was the key to understanding how there wasn’t a price, or rather, what the price actually was.

 

“Can you give us an instance of what you’ve heard? What do you call ‘inconsequential magic?’”

 

Gold tapped the countertop, clearly thinking on the question Killian posed until he came up with a suitable explanation. 

 

“Again, I never met him, but from the words of the men I spoke with, this is what I gleamed. This man, he couldn’t create magic beans or slay your enemies, but a hat?” Gold turns to a coat rack and grabs a hat that sits upon its highest point. “That he could give you.”

 

While Henry is drawn to Gold’s words, as he ought to be, Killian is drawn to something else: the hat in his hand. 

 

The words ‘hat’ and ‘give’ juggle around his thoughts until finally, a memory, full and clear, returns, and at that moment, all of Killian’s recollections on the subject are triggered. 

 

Whispers heard through his own ears, ones he’s surprised are still in there at all, come flooding back to him. The hat reminds Killian of a story from so long ago, that it’s blurry, akin to a newborn’s first memories, but now that it’s been reengaged, it’s all so clear, like a landscape on a sunny day.

 

“I think I remember,” Killian mutters. Henry and Gold turn to him, but his attention remains on Gold. “Your story brings back a memory or two of my own. The Lost Boys spoke of the man you mentioned while my crew and I hid from them. One of them had a hat, very much like that, and said it came from him - that it was a gift from a man they called Kris.”

 

Rumple and Henry stare at Killian, astonished. 

 

“K-Kris?” Henry stutters. “Like, spelled with a K?”

 

Trepidation pulsing through his veins, Killian slowly replies, “Yes.”

 

“Kris Kringle,” Henry mutters, no doubt more so for his own sake than anyone else’s. Gold seems to also be on Henry’s same train of thought, leaving Killian waiting at the station.

 

“What are you two talking about?”

 

“Santa Claus is a man who goes by many names,” Gold explains. “Kris Kringle is one of them. Those memories of yours just proved that he exists.”

 

“Holy shit!” Henry yells.

 

“Language, Henry,” Gold scolds. He then shoots Killian a stare that is far from a glare, but more like Emma when he gives similar swears in front of Neal. “You need to watch your tongue in front of him. Henry may live with a pirate, but I’m not about to have him talking like one.”

 

Gold’s comment earns naught but an eye roll from Killian. He’s hardly the only one in the family who swears, after all. Regina’s said ‘bitch’ enough times to warrant a small drinking game, and Emma’s language is certainly no slouch when calls to the station come in at inopportune times or when she bangs her toes on tables. 

 

“Now here’s what I’m wondering. Grandpa, why did you only hear about him working on cold nights?” Henry asks, getting everyone back to focusing on the task at hand.

 

Gold clicks his tongue. “That, I’m afraid I also don’t know.”

 

“But I think I might,” Killian says. The gleam in Henry’s eyes as he speaks sharpens his confidence like a sword. “The Lost Boys, when they spoke of Kris Kringle, wondered why he wouldn’t show up on Neverland, and some of the older ones would answer. Like Pan, this man was a prisoner to conditions. In his case, the cold. He couldn’t go out in the sunlight, nor the warmth.” 

 

“Who would make magic like that?” Henry ponders. The three of them reflect on this over a long silence.

 

Killian stews over the possibilities. He begins to think of others with magic. 

 

Kris could always be born with magic, like Emma or Elsa, but what a terrible blessing for a child to never feel the heat of summer on their skin. Besides, how could a child survive in the cold long enough to reach adulthood?

 

He could also have learned it through private study, much like Regina and her mother. However, why banish oneself to a life of frigidness over the course of their studies? Besides, it still wouldn’t explain why their magic otherwise yielded no consequences.

 

There’s one alternative, plausible, undeniably, and Killian only has to glance at the man opposite him to think of who it reminds him of.

 

“What if...it’s a curse?” Killian theorizes, staring up at Gold. “What if this Santa, Kris Kringle, was cursed to be trapped in the cold?”

 

“That’s...certainly possible.” Gold weighs in. “But now the question is: who would curse one with such a fate?” 

 

Indeed, who would? If Gold himself wasn’t standing before him, looking just as contemplative over the matter as Killian currently is, he’d be Killian’s first suspect. 

 

“Do you know of anyone who would have done it?” Henry inquires.

 

“I’m afraid not. What you need is someone with a touch more insight insight into those things.”

 

“The fairies?” Henry suggests. It’s a good idea, though Gold, for reasons quite clear, doesn’t share the sentiment.

 

“I feel remiss to lead you in such a direction, but if you must, then they’d probably be the first people to ask.”

 

Henry smiles. “Then we know our next stop.”

 

“Be careful,” Gold implores wearily as the two make their way to the door. The dinging of the bell, signifying their leave brings some of the air back to Killian’s lungs, as it always does after an encounter with Gold. What makes him feel even better is how his step son has spent the past minute positively beaming with happiness.

 

“Hook! You just proved that Santa exists!” Henry gushes when they’re finally outside.

 

Killian realizes at this moment that yes, he truly has proven that truth. He feels so much pride, especially when it brings such light out of his step son. 

 

This is it. This is what it feels like to be part of a tradition. Part of one of Henry’s traditions, more importantly. 

 

And it feels like being on top of the world.

 

He’d suffer his crocodile a thousand and one times just to feel this way again.

 

“Indeed, I did. You should expect nothing less from one of the oldest and sharpest minds in all the realms.”

 

For a moment, Killian gets to soak in blissful happiness with Henry.

 

Finally, though, he begins to think of what comes next. A lack of foresight has been his undoing on more than a few occasions before and he tries now to not let himself fall prey to it again.

 

People don’t just get cursed for no reason. What did this Kris Kringle do to incur someone’s wrath like this? He begins to think that there’s more of a sinister nature to this story than anyone would like to believe. 

 

Henry seems to take the opposite approach. 

 

“Poor Santa,” he bemoans. “I can’t believe all this time, the fact that he was stuck only delivering one day a year, that was all a curse.” 

 

Killian hopes more than anything that Henry’s right. In the meantime, he keeps this theory to himself. They still don’t know anything about Santa’s true nature, and Henry could very well be correct. This isn’t the first time that been true. Hell, it hasn’t even been the eighth time by now. 

 

That thought give Killian the optimism to produce a genuine grin. 

 

“Off to the fairies, we go?” he suggests, gesturing towards the sidewalk.

 

“Off to the fairies, we go.” Henry answers, and the two head off to the next destination.

 

()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()

 

Without Emma’s bug at their service, Killian and Henry are tasked with walking to their next destination, and it’s not an especially short walk either. With time to fill, Henry immediately takes out his phone. Right away and without needing to ask a single question, Killian knows that Henry’s received a message from Violet. He can tell by the way Henry’s smile grows and his eyes soften. Killian himself is motivated to check his own phone. 

 

Lo and behold, when he activates it, there’s a message from Emma waiting for him. His own features soften just before he checks to see what his beloved has left him.

 

Emma: How’s it going?

 

Killian types out a quick summary of his and Henry’s trip to the pawnshop and the discovery they made. Two or three minutes after he sends it off, he receives another.

 

Emma: So Santa’s cursed?

 

Killian: It appears to be so.

 

Emma: Should I be worried? 

 

Killian: That remains to be seen. We’re going to ask around the fairies’ dwelling next.

 

Emma: Not going to lie. It’d be pretty cool to have Santa around if we find him.

 

Killian: I wonder if, based off the events of that movies, if he’d best your brother in a cookie-eating contest.

 

Emma: lol. I don’t know. Have you seen Neal when he gets into a box of Oreos? He won’t eat his string beans, but give him a some of those and he suddenly has a bottomless stomach.

 

Killian laughs, and it earns him a raised eyebrow from Henry. Killian, embarrassed, mutters his explanation. Henry asks Killian to tell his mother that he says hi, and Killian nods before returning to his phone.

 

Emma: How’s Henry doing?

 

Killian: As chipper as ever. He says hi, by the way.

 

Emma: Awww! Tell him I said hi too! And how are **you** doing? 

 

Killian hesitates texting out his answer, choosing to take the moment to relay Emma’s message to Henry. However, it seems like Emma knows him well enough to anticipate as much, for when he and Henry take their next break from talking and return to their phones, there’s a new message waiting for him.

 

Emma: Still nervous?

 

Killian: I’ve made some contributions, but I’m worried we may be setting ourselves up for failure.

 

Emma: Oh?

 

Killian: All this business with curses has me concerned.

 

Emma: Well, it’s Santa, so I can’t imagine it can be that bad.

 

Killian: I hope you’re right, love.

 

Emma: I always am! <3

 

Killian smirks at his phone.

 

Emma: Just got word about an accident. Talk to you later. Keep me posted on everything!

 

Killian: Will do, love. Be safe.

 

“Isn’t this cool?” Killian hears Henry say. He thinks he’s simply talking to Violet, but when he turns around, Henry’s looking at him.

 

“In more ways than one,” Killian jests right back. Henry laughs, and Killian hopes it’s sincere. He listens for traces of awkwardness, but finds none. However, rather than alleviating his concerns, it just ends up increasing them ten fold. 

 

He tells himself once more that that’s nonsense. Henry asked him here, and he’s been helpful so far. Emma’s right.

 

“If we find this Santa Claus,” Killian continues, “what would you want him to bring you?” Killian shoots him a look, one Killian’s rather familiar with. “What?”

 

“You can just call him ‘Santa Claus’ or ‘Santa.’ The invisible ‘this’ is silent.”

 

Killian shoots Henry his own stare right back. “Are you sassing me, boy?”

 

Henry shrugs, a cheeky grin prominent and only rising. “You make it too easy.” Killian gawks mockingly at him. 

 

“That be mutiny!” He calls out, aiming to sound scandalized through near laughter.

 

“You’ve got to admit: Captain Henry has a nice ring to it.” Killian is too full of laughter to respond, so Henry takes the conversation’s reigns for the moments. “Anyway, if Santa ends up being the real deal, I’d want a copy of every video game ever made.” 

 

Killian laughter only continues. He may not know much about video games, but he’s well aware from some of Emma’s lectures as to how much just one game costs. He can hardly imagine how much every game ever made would be. 

 

“That’s quite a tall order,” he says when he finally comes down from his cluster of chuckles.

 

“Well to be fair, I’ve only save the world about half a dozen times by now. I’m no ordinary kid.”

 

“That you certainly are not, my boy,” Killian sighs. 

 

()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()() 

 

Blue is, to say the least, a little shocked to hear Henry ask about a curse. Her words create a respectable echo through the church’s halls. 

 

“A curse?” It’s not high pitched, but the undertone is loud, enough so that Killian has to stifle a flinch.

 

“Yeah,” Henry confirms. “A curse.” Blue’s much more expressive with her fears than Killian has been. In all fairness, Storybrooke attracts those afflicted by curses like an open jar of honey attracts flies, so her fear is not the least bit unjustified.

 

“Concerning a certain Kris Kringle,” Killian adds in. Henry then details the purpose of their mission as well as everything they garnered from Gold’s shop.  

 

“I know that man,” Blue states. “His name, or rather, his real name is Silas Clayton. Different cultures altered what we refer to him as.”

 

“Silas Clayton,” Henry murmurs, testing the name out on his tongue. 

 

“SC. Santa Claus,” Killian adds. The two of them look at each other and Henry snaps his fingers.

 

“So Silas was cursed,” he infers.

 

“Yes,” Blue confirms. 

 

“Do you know how he got cursed, or what became of him?” Killian questions. His and Henry’s hopes are high that this mystery can be solved now.

 

Unfortunately, luck appears to not be on his side.

 

“No. We know that there was some business with an enchantress, but as to what it entailed, we never knew. I’ll talk to Belle, and see if she has any books on the subject. I know Kris was popular among the masses some time ago, so there might be something.”

 

The two of them wait as Blue and Belle talk over the phone. Blue reveals once they hang up that she and Belle are going to do some research down by the library, and that Belle will contact them if they find anything. Killian and Henry offer to help, but Blue declines saying she wishes to spend some one-on-one time with her friend so she can hear about the latest goings on with her and at the same time, see and play with her godson. Understanding, the two of them decide to leave well enough alone and head out.

 

()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()() 

 

Killian and Henry next decide a break for lunch is in order. With Belle and Blue promising to report back with their research as soon as they find something, the two of them figure there’s little they can do to push things along. No more names come up between them as to who to press for information, and empty stomachs will only do them less favors, so lunch it is. 

 

Emma is able to get out of work, so she meets them. She greets them both at the door to Granny’s with a giant hug and a peck each to the forehead. 

 

“Miss me,” she whispers into Killian’s ear.

 

“Always, love. Always.”

 

Henry fills Emma in on their progress throughout the meal.

 

“So what? Santa’s not even called Santa?” Emma asks incredulously.

 

“Apparently not, love. In our realm, he goes by the name Silas Clayton, among others.”

 

Emma’s face crinkles. 

 

“I guess whoever was the author at the time decided to change it,” Henry guesses. “Kris Kringle was one of them.”

 

Still looking disgusted, Emma groans.

 

“Can’t say I blame them,” she says. “I don’t think I’d be excited to hear about a guy named Silas Clayton coming down my chimney on Christmas Eve.”

 

Suddenly, a loud hmph is heard, one not immediately familiar to anyone at the table.

 

Everyone looks up.

 

“Silas Clayton,” Granny scoffs, putting down the check. “Now that’s a name I’d rather forget.” Killian, Emma, and Henry exchange stunned glances to both Granny and each other. Given her years Granny probably should’ve come up as an option to give their special blend of yuletide investigation. However, given the diner’s business earlier business, she ended up never crossing their minds.

 

“No way,” Henry sputters. “You know about Silas?”

 

“Damn right I do,” she boasts as she rotates dishes for another table in her arms. “He lived in my village when I was a girl working with my mom. Was a nasty man, well off, but stingy and cruel! It felt like I was poisoned whenever I saw him.”

 

“Any idea of what became of him?” Killian asks. His deepest wish is to hear of a redemption, of not then just more information.

 

Turns out, the latter wish is the one that comes true.

 

“Last I know, he inherited a large cottage from an uncle who lived in the mountains. Hope he got crushed by an avalanche!” Granny then stepped away to drop off the hot dishes to a couple on the other end of the diner.

 

Killian bit his lip. What had Henry thought of Granny’s rant? He turned to see for himself.

 

“You okay?” 

 

“Yeah,” Henry answered. “Granny knew Silas a long time ago. If he’s Santa, he probably changed.” Killian’s touched into not arguing for a more realistic approach to their situation. He rescinds his earlier prayers, now wishing for Henry to simply take solace in whatever it is that he find in this Operation.

 

Right after placing money onto their table, Killian feels his cell phone vibrate from within his pockets. He grabs it and looks at the screen.

 

Belle: I think I found what you’re looking for. Come by the library.

 

()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()

 

Emma, Henry, and Killian all head for Emma’s bug and drive over to the library. Killian’s pleas, he’s certain are the only thing keeping his wife from speeding through the streets.

 

“This is so exciting,” Emma says. “We’re really going to find Santa!” 

 

“I know, right?” Henry adds in.

 

Their excitement fills Killian’s heart with equal parts anticipation and dread. He sees Henry through the rear view mirror, and Henry returns the eye contact. He’s the opposite of Killian: confident, so confident. Killian knows he shouldn’t expect any less from him - he does hold the title of The Truest Believer. He just can’t shake the notion that things are about to go awry, and he hopes, not for the first time in his long life, that his instincts are wrong. For now, he forces his face to appear at peace, not smiling, but not alerting anyone else to his torment.

 

The journey leaves him with so much to stew over that it passes in what feels like a blink of the eye.

 

Killian and Henry step out of the bug, and just before Emma is about to, her phone goes off. Words are exchanged, and Killian gets the feeling that he and Henry will once again be on their own for the final leg of this mystery.

 

His fears are confirmed when he hears Emma say that she’ll be right over right before hanging up the phone. She gives them both an apologetic stare.

 

“Good luck, guys,” she wishes. She stares Killian in the eyes, as if to remind him that things will be fine, just before taking off.

 

When Killian and Henry enter the library, Blue and Belle are standing behind the librarian’s desk. There’s a single book in front of them. It looks nothing like Henry’s book, smaller in length and black with no border, only a greyed line by the crease.

 

Pleasantries are exchanged between the four of them quickly.

 

“We’ve a lot to discuss,” Belle says as she run a manicured hand through her hair. “The whole situation is so crazy, I can hardly believe it. I’ve read hundreds of stories, but there’s never been one like this before.” When Killian can finally make out her features once more, she’s frowning.

 

Killian sees Henry’s expression change. When they took their first steps inside, his smile looked like it would hurt if it got any wider, but now? It’s neutral, and there’s the slightest bit of worry in his eyes. Killian’s terrified that what he has theorized might be right, and worse, Henry’s discovering his own doubts for himself. That said, it would be a fool’s errand to try to pull Henry away from all of this now. He’d debate for the slightest chance that the story could have a happier ending, and Killian, not able to argue otherwise, would let him continue.

 

Perhaps Belle’s just tired, he teorizes. After all, a spontaneous research job was thrust onto her not two hours ago. Maybe her haggard state has naught to do with the story she and Blue are about to tell them.

 

A small part of Killian tries to argue as much, in any event.

 

“We learned from Granny that Silas inherited a cottage in the mountains from his uncle,” Killian says. He observes Belle for a reaction, but none appears.

 

“And that he was a real jerk,” Henry supplies.

 

“Good,” Blue praises, her expression unreadable. “That will save us some time.”

 

Killian doesn’t like the way that those words leave Blue’s lips.

 

“Did his story get any better?” Henry asks. 

 

Blue and Belle exchange a look. Blue bites her lip just before she responds.

 

“Yes and no.”

 

Both Kilian and Henry are so confused. 

 

“Long ago, there was an enchantress, one now passed from our world,” Blue explains. “They were friends - the enchantress and Silas’ uncle, and she had hoped that she and Silas could bond over their love for him, and that she could help acclimate him to life in the snowy mountains. She visited Silas in his house in the mountains, seeking shelter on a bitter cold evening, but more importantly, seeking to test his heart for the same kindness that his uncle who he inherited it from had possessed.”

 

“However,” Belle counters. “It wasn’t so. Silas shut the door on her on sight, thinking her a peddler. Even after explaining who she was, Silas was no less generous with his time or attention and dismissed her.”

 

“One thing to know about enchantresses is that they don’t take rejection especially well,” Blue points out.

 

“And I take it that this one was no exception to that rule,” Killian guesses.

 

Blue, seemingly painfully, nods. “She cursed him. Ironic generosity. He could only do small bits of good for others, so that he could never use his gifts to free himself from her trappings.”

 

“What about all that business with cold nights?”

 

“That was the other part of the curse. Just as his heart was cold, so would the rest of him have to be. He couldn’t embrace warm weather. While I can’t say for certain, going by the winters we had back in the Enchanted Forests, he probably couldn’t go out in anything over ten, maybe twenty degrees.”

 

“But you did say he got better, right?” Henry pushes.

 

“Not exactly,” Blue corrects. “Things improved, but not through him. Silas would grant those he could visit gifts when he went on supply runs, but it was quite involuntary. He was always horrible as he did it, too. After a decade or two of it, he stopped visiting people altogether. What did improve through his coldness though was the attitudes of others. When he disappeared, the townspeople took initiative and made gifts for their loved ones, this time with love and compassion, and those are the traditions and stories took.”

 

Killian hears Henry sigh, his face hopeless and desperate.

 

“So, is still around?” Henry questions.”Maybe we can talk to him, and change his ways.”

 

Belle and Blue exchange another look, both daring the other to answer.

 

Belle is the first to shake her head.

 

“Silas was cursed,” she tells the two of them, “but he wasn’t an immortal. He died of old age with the curse still afflicting him.” Killian looks back to Henry. If he weren’t presently standing, Killian could see himself mistaking his step son for being comatose. He says nothing, stays still, and even more heartbreakingly, tries no more to find the truth. Even as they leave, all he does is absentmindedly mumble a thank you for Belle and Blue’s help.

 

Killian searches everything he knows for a final step to take or a final person to talk to - some way to better end things off than here.

 

But he knows that it’s in vain.

 

Every loose end has now been tied, and the truth has been effectively exposed.

 

The mystery of Santa Claus has at last been solved, and in the worst, most soul-crushing way possible.

 

()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()() 

 

The walk home is a quiet and painful one, painful through sheer contrast to the one they shared earlier in the day.

 

As soon as they get back, Henry excuses himself up to his room. He’s not angry per-se, and Killian’s aware of that, but his gloom radiates around him in a way that can’t be ignored. 

 

For a while, Killian sits on the couch, his fingers massaging his tired eyes very much in the same way that Belle did back in the library, succumbing to his own bout of gloom. Not only is he terrible about joining in on traditions, but now, due to his intervention, he’s destroyed an entire legacy of generosity. Why did he have to remember anything about this accursed man? Why couldn’t his steel trap of a mind capture something else instead?

 

A half hour later, the front door opens and Emma walks through. He’s spotted not long afterwards.

 

“How’d it go?” she asks.

 

Her eyes meet Killian’s as she steps into the living room and she immediately understands.

 

“Oh Killian,” she coos as she sits down by his side. Her head nests itself in the crook of his neck and her hand runs lazy circles on the middle of his back. “That bad?”

 

“He’s  **awful** , a truly awful and despicable man through and through, and now he’s prey to his maker.”

 

Killian, as if needing another thing to distress him further, realizes that Emma’s hopes concerning Santa have now been dashed too. This figment was her hope. He whines against his will.

 

“I’m sorry that Santa wasn’t who you and Henry dreamed of,” he apologizes. Emma sighs, a hand on his knee. Killian knows she’s not mad at him at all, but her disappointment in the results of their search positively guts him like a fish on a hook. 

 

“It’s okay. At least he’s not waging war on Storybrooke,” Emma says, attempting to make some degree of light out of the whole bloody situation. “How’s Henry taking it?”

 

“Terribly,” Killian informs. “He’s hardly said a word since we left the library.”

 

“You should talk to him,” Emma encourages. KIllian’s hesitant. He’s not even sure what to say, or what Henry would think of him. After all, it was he and his memories that wrought this discovery. “No,” she continues, insistent. This grants her a raised eyebrow from Killian, but she remains persistent. “Don’t go to that dark place of yours where you blame yourself for remembering Santa and start moping when it’s not your fault. Henry needs you right now.”

 

For a moment, Killian is left stunned. How well does this woman know him to incinerate his most basic of coping mechanisms before they’ve even been said? 

 

As he recovers from Emma’s words, he realizes something. 

 

Namely, she’s right.

 

Killian’s still admittedly nervous about going to Henry, and he still has no idea what to say, but he thinks himself more equipped to handle this task that once appeared to be Herculean, but now shows itself to be something human. Human is doable.

 

“I want to talk to him,” Killian decides. 

 

Emma smiles and gives him a kiss on the cheek. “You’ll make him feel better. I know you.”

 

Her words of encouragement, as they usually do, steel his resolve. He couldn’t have picked a more fulfilling love if he had his choice of any one in any world.

 

Killian climbs upstairs and when he reaches Henry’s room, he lets his hook rattle a few times against the door. He hears no response, but his heart tells him that he needs to go in, and right now is the time for him to follow his instincts. The door creaks open.

 

“Henry,” he calls softly.

 

“Hey,” Henry murmurs. He’s sitting on his bed against the headboard, staring at what appears to be nothing. Killian sits beside him on the bed. For a moment, only the silence is given words until finally, motivated who knows what, Henry speaks.

 

“Did you think this was all going to end up the way it did?”

 

Killian sighs. Leave it to Henry to start with the most complicated of questions. “I had my doubts that what we’d discover anything too pleasant. The business of curses seldom lends itself to as much.”

 

“And you didn’t say anything?” It’s not said with anger or even disappointment, simply curiosity.

 

“I wanted to believe in you,” Killian answers, shrugging. “You and Emma, you’ve taught me to see the light in the dark, and even today when I saw nothing but shadows ahead, you and Emma saw hope. And there was a bit.”

 

“Only not really.” Henry sighed, frustration evident. Killian’s aware that it not targeted at him, but at the whole grisley situation itself. “I wish you had told me.”

 

“It wouldn’t have accomplished anything. It would have only served to make you miserable. Besides, you wouldn’t have given up even if I did. That’s not you, and that’s the part that we love. You’d have talked to everyone in this town until you learned the truth. It may not have worked out this time, but think about how often it has. Your mother, Gold, me, and that list continues.” 

 

That softens Henry up, and Killian can tell. 

 

“Look, Henry, just because Santa’s based off a man cursed to be kind doesn’t mean that there can’t be those better than him, those that can be generous without a such factors to force their hands.”

 

Henry is quiet for a moment. 

 

“Someone like you,” Henry supplies. Killian’s cheeks and ears grow red. 

 

“I hope I am for you, my boy.” Henry smiles, and almost starts to laugh.

 

“Are you kidding me? Hook, you spent all day running around Storybrooke helping me find one of the coolest people of all time! And yeah,” Henry says, only partially struggling now, “he didn’t end up being so great, and he didn’t change, but so what? Santa’s bigger than him. So yeah, I’m glad we found out the truth.” Henry then scrutinizes Killian’s face. “What’s up?”

 

For a second, Killian in unsure about how to answer that. However, when he feels pain coursing through the upper part of his jawbone, the meaning behind the question is divulged.

 

“It’s nothing. Just pride for you. You’re the greatest step son a man could ask for. Thank you for inviting me to come along today.”

 

“Thank you for coming along, Killian.”

 

Killian blinks. It’s the first time Henry’s ever called him by his true name, and to say he’s floored would be quite the understatement. His monikor’s a nickname he’s grown used to, but these days, he never quite gets over the utter bliss of someone calling him ‘Killian.’

 

And now Henry’s gone and done it, and he feels like the most powerful man in the world.

 

What a step son he’s got.

 

There’s so much Killian wants to say, but he knows that Henry can only handle so much, ‘gooeyness,’ as he often puts it when Killian and Emma sneak in a kiss in his presence, in a single day. So instead, he attempts to convey it all in a simple, non-binding smile. Henry, consciously aware of Killian’s reasoning for doing so or not, returns it. 

 

“You know,” Henry then goes on. “There’s a lot of other Christmas legends. Maybe some more of them exist, and maybe they’re cooler than Santa. Want to find out?”

 

“Make it a Christmas tradition?”

 

“I’m in if you are.”

 

Killian places his hand on Henry’s shoulder. Henry looks up at him and scratches his chin.

 

“How about I tell you a little story about Jack Frost?”

 

()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()

 

Killian and Emma are once again resting in bed. Emma is curled up against Killian’s right side and her head is nested in the crook of his neck.

 

The failure to find the actual Santa Claus of legends aside, Killian considers Operation Candy Cane to be a success. Emma’s resolve of hope proves to be too strong to be crumbled by her fictional idol’s treacherous past and his relationship with Henry has come out stronger than ever from the whole experience. Killian’s more than happy to claim today as a win and call it a night, but Emma seems to have an objection.

 

“I gotta say, I’m a little jealous,” Emma says.

 

Killian hums teasingly. The tone of her voice makes it apparent that her jealousy is not rooted in anything serious, but rather as a segway for something of the opposite nature.

 

“You and Henry have your own little tradition now.”

 

“Correct me if I’m wrong, love, but aren’t you and Henry going ice skating by yourselves?”

 

“I did invite you along to that one,” Emma points out.

 

“And as I told you when you offered me the chance, pirates such as meself prefer our water unfrozen.” Well, that’s part of the reason, at the very least. He’s overheard Henry talk to Violet about how ice skating has been a tradition between himself and Emma since he found her, and Killian, for just as much as he’s desired to be a part of the family’s traditions, is aware enough that some traditions are not to be intruded upon.

 

Emma smirks. “Remind me to tell Elsa about that next time she comes to town.”

 

Killian gasps mockingly. “You wouldn’t dare! She’d freeze off my feet!” 

 

“Well, that’d be one way to get you skating!” Emma starts laughing. Killian pulls her closer and her thumb starts massaging his jaw line. “Actually,” Emma continues, much to Killian’s surprise, “I meant a tradition of our own - just us two.” 

 

Hearing her words, Killian smiles - no - positively beams at his wife.

 

And thankfully, he’s accounted for such a concern and installed a tradition of their very own right here in this room.

 

“I must be psychic,” Killian whispers. It’s now Emma’s time to hum with inquisition. “Look up.” Emma does, and she snorts before turning her eyes, devilous in both their playfulness as well as how much they make Killian want her, back to him. “Not all of the traditions of your realm are foreign to me.” He moves his face close to her until their noses touch. “Even the residents of the Enchanted Forest know the myths of mistletoe.” Emma wraps her arms around Killian, crossing each other at the small of his back. “Shall we bask in our own Christmas tradition?” he asks, all too happy to hear her reply. 

 

“Let’s,” Emma answers just before their lips met. 

 

In that moment, with his stepson’s admiration stronger than ever before and his wife’s lips glued to him like magnets, Killian found his need for traditions to be quite satisfied.


End file.
